


castle in the sky

by obscurialis



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream's POV, Fluff and Angst, London, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Pining, Regency, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Unrequited, Victorian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:40:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscurialis/pseuds/obscurialis
Summary: A hastily organized ball for a careless man to celerate his engagement turns out quite differently than expected.[Regency era London, 1802]---"Your life sounds like a dream." George said, slurring his words, clearly influenced by the whiskey they'd drunk together."It really isn't." he muttered, shifting his weight, looking over upon the Thames. The air was dark, and heavy, hanging silently between the two of them."Well, you're a dream, you know," George slurred again, "in fact. I don't like your name anymore. I'll call you Dream from now on."
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. the salon

Love is a party attended with hope they had too been invited; an afternoon walk taken despite the bad weather, simply to walk past their house; a useless artifact bought with the hope to start a conversation with them. 

Love was nothing feeling quite real and everything feeling too real at the same time; an unintelligible drowsiness of happiness when together, against an unability to breathe properly when apart.

He didn't quite know what it felt like exactly, but he knew all too well that what he and Sarah had, was not love and rather a poor reproduction of the stuff.

Their soirée tonight was not one attended with hope, but with dread. It was a quest and a project of his mother, to throw the biggest, most lavish celebration of an engagement the city would see that year. He had let her do his thing, during it all. She had so masterfully orchestrated every last bit of his entanglement with Sarah, from their meeting to his proposing - she had been behind it all, from the start.

The duty of a bothersome mother cursed with an unbothered son, as she'd tell him sometimes.

The two of them had been waiting in one of the smaller salons. Sarah had been sat on one of the velvet settees, anxiously brushing her blonde hair. He had been leaned up against the fireplace's recently redone chimneypiece, admiring its extravagance, which was even grander than before. It looked beautiful, but cold and lifeless, just as his father had wanted it to be. 

"Clay? Sarah? They are ready for you." one of the servants announced. He didn't care to look at the boy, who was probably shyly stood in the imposing doorway of the room.

He didn't react in any way at all, and instead stared at the gathering of grey particles around the edges of his grandfather's painting. It hadn't been dusted in a while. 

"Thank you, Dan," Sarah answered, and the sound of the boy's footsteps moved away from them, disappearing into the house. He did not move, and didn't bother to look up at her. He kept standing completely still, like a statue, enchanted by the pieces of dust on the mantle.

"We have to go, Clay," she said, her tone loud and stern, and he finally moved - turning to her, giving her a poisonous look. She smiled in return, a badly masked attempt at charming him to come with.

"I've told you before, I don't care about this party," he answered, walking the line between whispering and speaking normally. He had no business being this cold to her, and he knew that. After all, it wasn't Sarah's fault he was entangled in all of this, and she couldn't help it even if she tried. 

It wasn't like he could tell people he did not care for Sarah. Let alone tell them he didn't care for marriage in general. 

"And I have answered, each time, that you do not have a saying in this matter. This is for our status, for the engagement." Sarah replied, and she turned away from him, facing the door again. "This is for _us_."

Wanting to fight her in lieu of his mother forevermore, but knowing it would be in vain, Clay sighed. He, of course, knew his attendance was mandatory, and walked towards his fiancée, putting his arm out for her to take it.

Sarah might have thought he had been comforting her, while all he was doing was easing his own wayward mind. With the added benefit of it being a 'loving' gesture.

"Let's go, then." he whispered, his words ricocheting against the cold walls of the salon. Sarah took his arm. "Together." 


	2. the party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw / tobacco use

They had braved the cold hallways together, arm in arm, her cold skin against his. Neither of them had spoken a single word, during their walk, and neither of them had said anything standing in front of the double doors either. They waited anxiously for them to open, for their entrance into the ballroom. It had all been meticously planned as well, and Clay had memorized the script to the minute, knowing it was _almost_ time, knowing his mother had just finished giving her little speech; a retelling of one of her favourite made-up memories. Every last attendee - dressed up in tight dresses and overpriced suits, was focused on the double mahogany doors behind which the two of them were stood.

"Let's go, then," Clay whispered. He dared to break the silence, his words ricocheting off her stern face. He re-focused on the doors. 

"Together." she whispered back, after a while. He felt her shiver, and looked up at her - meeting her gaze. She smiled. She grabbed his hand even tighter, her skin cold against his, and caressed it. She looked rather beautiful despite it all. He squeezed her hand, a silly attempt to satisfy his howling nerves. A muted applause erupted. It was time.

Two of their servants opened the doors, and they looked out over the ballroom. The attendees stared up at them, their faces lighting up with rather poorly put on fake joy, clapping at the sight. He felt as Sarah squeezed his hand back, and even though her hands were too clammy and too small to fit in his, he appreciated it. _Together_. 

"My beautiful son, Clay, and his lovely bride-to-be, Sarah!" his mother announced, probably repeating herself, her sharp, itchy tone piercing the blank sound of clapping, somehow louder than everyone else. They started their descent down to the marble dance floor, taking small, synchronized steps, as if rehearsed - as it had been. Their hands conjoined; the illusion of a perfect marriage-to-be upheld.

He thought it funny how anyone could think they were truly in love, _actually_. Sarah and him? They were distanced to one another, even Sarah to him. Clay didn't actually know if she was actually in love with him, heartbroken over it being unrequited, or if she was really good at pretending, hoping to believe in her own lie if she kept it up long enough. She was terrific, a lady deserving of the best, but he wasn't that - he couldn't give her that ever, and deep down, she knew that as well as he did.

But not only were they distant, they were drastically different - she had refined tastes, like a lady of her standing should. She enjoyed reading French literature and to taste wine instead of to simply drink it. He couldn't even focus on English literature, and didn't care for the taste of a _Merlot blanc_ , just that he couldn't drink it fast enough. Life was but a blur, and it should be lived as such by its participants. He lived it in a half-drunken state of mind at all times, and that was okay enough for him.

They did like their music though.

She played the harp, he played the piano; a euphony of harmony when played together; a skillfully crafted symphony. They connected in a way unlike wherever else, silently playing next to one another, filling up their rooms and their minds with talent, enchanting theirselves with its symphonies. It was their lone shared pastime, and they cherished it in a truly unspoken way. 

The music at their party was tolerable at best. It drowned easily into the sound of chatter, disappearing into unregulated talking of people he didn't know. Clay lived through the party itself as if he weren't in control of his own body. He had held up the hope he and Sarah would brave the evening together, as a couple, but they'd split early in the evening, following their own routes and routines - endless shaking of hands, being congratulated and conversing about mind-numbing topics. It wasn't even necessarily boring, he was just surrounded by people who fundamentally uninterested him. The Hatts, for example, had recently imported chandeliers, which both Ms and Mr Hatt seemed to boast about endlessly, the Fellington widow had adopted another dog, because one nasty moppet annoying Mayfair inhabitants was not enough already, and most importantly, the seemingly cursed eldest Morgan daughter had finally entered a courtship, with significant engagement potential.

Clay had spent so much time entertaining people he didn't care for, that he hadn't even had time to try the snacks prepared for the evening or look for people he genuinely enjoyed talking to. He couldn't find or see his friends anywhere, he hadn't had a drink put into his hand in forever and felt tired of socialising in general. He promptly decides to finish up the conversation he was having and to move outside for a breath of fresh air. He made sure not to look at anyone directly, and tell anyone asking him something, that he was going to the toilet - even though it was complete opposite way.

The garden was beautiful. Just half of the lanterns speckling it were lit, and it was not even empty, but he hadn't expected it to be. Silent, not-to-be-overheard conversations were being held between groups of people who tried their bests to hide their flushed face, and he was not to intrude. He leaned up against the marble railings, and looked idly at the shaped green hedges, his mind drifting off. For the first seconds in a while, he allowed himself to breathe freely. 

" _Finally_." Sapnap's voice spoke. Lightning fast, Clay turned around. His rather melancholic mood lifted immediately. "I finally found you," he said again, a smile spreading across Sapnap's face. His facial features changed playfully in the flickering lantern light. Something about that guy.

" _Man_ ," Clay said, drawing it out, "maybe this evening will be okay after all." He itched his nose, hiding his childlike smile behind his hand. Kind of embarassing of him, truly.

"Are we having a party here?" Techno's voice boomed from behind them, and as they turned towards it, they saw his silhouette arise from the hallway shadows. His smile grew ever greater, and he greeted his other friend with delight. He unconsciously forgot all his dumb thoughts about the evening and remembered it as this moment only; this was the best thing that happened tonight. His previous state of feeling tired lifted as soon as he'd seen them appear, and he could pretend he was but a simple man, not an eldest son, nor having any attachment to anything and anyone.

"Gladly," Clay said back. Techno smiled back at him. He knew he too probably felt overstimulated with such a grand event.

"So am I the only one having fun?" Sapnap muttered, under his breath, half-joking; half not. Clay laughed, heartily, letting out a wheeze. Not necessarily because that had been such a hilarious comment, but because he was having fun just standing here with the two of them. He felt so consciously unaware of his surroundings, and saw faces turning to the godawful sound he produced in his peripherals, but decided to not care. He wanted to stay here, in the moment.

"No, I'm having fun." Techno said shortly. He wasn't a man of many words, but got to the point anyhow. He lit a cigarette.

"God, that's _disgusting_ ," Sapnap exclaimed immediately, faking a cough, "Benjamin Rush writes that's awful for your health, you know." Clay just smiled, witnessing the conversation unfold.

"You and your Benjamin Rush," Techo hissed, blowing out a small puff. This little bicker between them happened almost daily, so he merely tolerated it yet another day, as the remnants of the grey cloud passed him, climbing up to the skies, slowly fading out. "Benjamin Rush will be the death of our friendship some day, you know." Sapnap sighed, admitting his daily defeat. 

They passed their time talking, while Techno slowly worked his way through the cigarette. He cherished it, seemingly enjoying it more than their conversation at times. The garden emptied out, either because of conversations dying and their respective interlocutors returning inside, or because sparks arised to be lit elsewhere, and Clay liked it. He breathed freely out over the cold, empty courtyard, and watched as the evening wind dimmed another lantern every so often. He felt lost in simple ecstacy, content with what he was feeling and what he was doing, completely and utterly happy. 

"Boys! So there you three are!"

Nothing could've ruined it, except for that.

His mother's stern voice directed their attentions to her. She stood atop the few steps between the balcony and the hallway, and looked over unto them. Her face was poorly lit, but he could guess what she'd put on - anger and her iconic hint of disappointment. 

"Nicholas, Billiam. You two troublemakers aren't keeping my son away, are you now?" she asked. She didn't ask it to be answered, and it stayed silent. Clay figured they'd be embarassed, or shocked, even, but he had stayed relatively calm, irritation protruding his zen state. He heard Sapnap gulp, and tried not to smile.

Somehow, it felt weird not hearing them be called by their nicknames. Ever since they were kids, the two of them had taken on an alias of sorts. He barely remembered Techno's first name, and Sapnap's first name didn't fit him in the slightest, so being reminded of the fact that wasn't their true name, shocked him in a way. 

"Return to the party, dear. People are asking for you." 

His mother focused her eyes unto him, and he couldn't help but sigh. He should've known such a happy intermission in his drab evening would be a fleeting moment. She did not wait for his reaction, and turned around on his heels to return to her hunting ground. 

"Damn," Sapnap muttered, "maybe we should get back, then."

"I guess." he responded. 

The group moved back to the ballroom as a unit, a protection squad for each other. They said nothing as they entered the chaos, their silence somehow louder than the chatter surrounding them. One by one, they split off, trapped in meaningless conversations, until he was alone, braving the cold, hard marble floors alone. 

Clay didn't necessarily dislike the party, or the people attending it, for the most part. It was the fact that his mother arranged all of this to celebrate _his_ engagement, without ever once asking _him_ what _he_ wanted. Sarah liked the crowds, but they'd agreed a much smaller gathering of actual friends and family would've been sufficient enough. This room, too small for its own good, was stuffed to the brim with people he either had never seen before, or people he'd been taught to fake a smile to. Not even all of his friends seemed to be present - either not invited, or simply lost somewhere. It was a mere stroke of luck that Sapnap and Techno had stumbled upon him. 

He didn't necessarily know if it was luck or fate, but his eyes locked unto Sarah's exactly when he was thinking about going back outside again. 

"There you are, dear!" she exclaimed. He smiled. They'd trained for this, acting it out, stuck together in a salon. He watched as she put her hand to her mouth in shock.

"Sarah, my love." He walked up to her, and entered the little circle the people surrounding her had formed. They looked at him in glee, seemingly starving for the two of them to be together, united again. 

His eyes met hers again, and he wiggled his eyebrow, code for asking her permission to perform another one of their little shows. A corner of her smile lifted a bit higher, and he took her hand to kiss it softly. She gasped dramatically, and he could swear he heard someone clap in the distance. 

The conversations that ensued passed by easier. Despite the state of the evening, having Sarah near helped. The two of them weren't too keen on the arranged marriage thing, but she was rather delightful - if he'd had to have an arranged marriage anyway, better to do so with her. And he had, admittedly, grown very close with her during their courtship, and even more so during their engagement. Their conversation partners switched out periodically, and every once in a while a servant passed by to give them another glass of some ambigious drink. 

The evening seemed to slip away, but in reality, it hadn't at all. Clay's sense of time was rather poor, and it had only been a small half an hour when he actually did slip away from the group to go to the toilet. It was rather interesting how time moved in its own way, he found.

He didn't mind it too badly so far. Standing next to Sarah had been fun, but just moving through the masses just to visit the bathroom brought his mood right down again, and he found himself wanting to return to that balcony. He didn't want this grand thing, this terrificly organized soireé; he wanted a small celebration with his actual friends. He didn't _mind_ so far, but he didn't like it either.

He bumped into Sapnap when exiting the toilet. His friend seemed flushed, and tired, his cheeks painted a soft red. He'd been running, surely.

"You wanna get out of here?"


End file.
